a child's mind
by jane porter
Summary: Sometimes, the minds of children are much more attentive than ours. We let our instincts go and try to focus on facts rather than feelings. But that first time their hands touched, they knew.


(Quick Oneshot. Don't ship it don't read it. Disregarded the Lucy plotline, as I refuse to write about it. Always had a headcanon that everyone went to the same elementary school. Includes kindergarten!quick and future!quick. Not beta read so I apologize

Quinn was a very curious girl.

She never showed it, but as a child she would rather sit and observe with cyicality than take part in the action. In her small, toddler sized universe, she was the fairest of them all. She was the prize of the playground, and anyone that could sweep her off her feet would be the luckiest kindergartner in all of Lima.

Noah - or rather, Puck, as he'd demanded his classmates to start calling him recently - was the meanie of the school, or at least that's what the girls said.

He was a bit off in the social caste system of the playground, mainly because in the winter time he'd dissappeared from school for two months straight without warning. No one ever knew why, and throughout his life he'd be protective of that reason. He'd much rather have someone believe he had some terrible illness than let them know he had stayed back to comfort his mother when they found their house void of his father, any items relating to him gone. He also didn't want them to know he'd spent a vast majority of those months in his room, sobbing his little five-year-old heart out, making sure he only cried when his little baby sister was having a fit so he wouldn't be heard.

Quinn would sit on the swings, gazing over the boys and girls as they interacted in what was a mini-dramatic version of the adult world. Puck would coo at the girls that passed by his place near the jungle gym.

In a child's mind, the world is only as big as their hometown. Borders expanded from the tip of their backyard, to the icecream shop down the road. Different societies were merely just the different classrooms in the small elementary. Friendship was just a 'tag' away, and love happened out of just merely sharing candy.

Usually this was the case, two children would be splitting their Hershey bar pieces in half in the morning, and by the afternoon bell both would be moving on. But love, real, actualy love comes in all shapes and sizes - and sometimes it took the tentative eye of a child to notice it.

Everyone was intimdated by Quinn - she was queen of her swingset, and anyone that dared to try to rescue her would be shooed away. She was independent - she was in charge, and she didn't like the idea of having to wait on others.

It was a crisp April morning when someone finally dared to break the barrier - the boy was least expected, and a few children actually gawked as none other than Noah Puckerman marched confidentaly over to the swings, giving her a pointed look before pushing at the chains that held her swing up to the bars above.

"Hey!" She protested, trying to swat at his hand, her blond dandelion fluff hair bouncing from the movement.

"I'm giving you a push." He just retorted back, making her swing move slightly. She scoffed, pointing her toes down so they brushed across the ground, the friction making her slow down.

"Go away, Puckerman."

"Make me, Fabray."

They both glared at each other, but the corners of their lips twitched - both trying not to break into hysteric laughter, their features had a certain softness that never showed on either of them before - like they had a secret joke just between them.

What happened next went down as an infamous moment in their lives, when they thought of their childhood both would close their eyes, a content sigh curling off their lips as they remembered Quinn getting up, egging him on by running away.

And of course Puck would give chase.

He would always give chase for her.

She let out a soft giggle, running faster and doing a turn around the monkey bars.

"You'll never catch me!" The words escaped from her lips with ease, usually Quinn was so self-composed but now she let herself go, the true child in her coming out.

He was fast though - and he was catching up to her. She gripped at a pole of the jungle gym, trying to swing around but she slipped, still laughing as she stumbled.

Reaching out, he grabbed her small hand tightly, hand clasping hers tighter than necessary. "Gotcha." He breathed out, a slow smirk forming on his lips. She grinned, laughing once a bit breathlessly, before pulling herself up, swinging their hands slightly before realizing what she was doing. Returning the smirk, she dropped his hand and stuck her tongue out at him, before making her way back across the playground and to her swing - while he was left, curling and uncurling his fingers, trying to save he memory of what her hand felt like in his inside of his mind forever.

And twenty years later, they still remember that day.

"You'll never catch me!" She cried out with a giggle, running to the other side of the kitchen counter, smirking at him across the room.

"We'll see about that." He replied with a confident grin, slowly approaching her then breaking out into a run when she tried to get away. His arms looped around her waist, and he held her tight against him.

"Lemme go, Puckerman." She countered, then let out a small laugh when he turned her around, lifting her by the legs and wrapping them around his torso, holding her up.

"Never." He growled out slightly, her forehead resting against his.

"Love you." She whispered, lips brushing against his. The phrase wasn't something they used often - they didn't need clarification, they didn't want to be one of those annoying couples. But when it was said, it caused them both to shiver, their eyes glinting with happiness.

"Love you too." He murmured back, brow furrowing at her teasing kisses, before he finally captured her lips with his, setting her back against the counter as she grinned against his lips.

Sometimes, the minds of children are much more attentive than ours. We let our instincts go and try to focus on facts rather than feelings. But that first time their hands touched, they knew.

**They always knew.**


End file.
